The winter chores had settled into a predictable, bone-deep rhythm. The bulbs were safely expanding in the magically stretched greenhouse, and the east field was slowly beginning to breathe again under the influence of the first salt-grass plantings. With the farm stabilized for the moment, Jacob felt the itch of confinement.
He needed to map the perimeter beyond the east field. The woods that bordered their land were dense, old, and currently choked with thawing snow. If they were to expand the farm, he needed to know what lived in those shadows.
He didn't want to alert Arthur to his restlessness, so he slipped away after the midday meal, leaving Sera to play with Lila and tend to the greenhouse. Caleb and Arthur were busy with farm work, and it was normal for a kid on their Trial Year to wander off from time to time.
He carried his sword from the dungeon, which he had kept for himself just in case, and wore his enchanted leather chest piece. Over his shoulder, he carried a simple, unenchanted shortbow and a quiver of arrows.
Monsters in this area are rare, especially with the influx of adventurers lately, but still possible to come across, Jacob thought to himself as he passed over the wooden fencing that marked the eastern property line.
As he moved deeper into the treeline, the silence of the woods pressed in. The air was colder here, shielded from the sun by the interlocking canopy of pine and oak. Good thing I wore my enchanted shirt . . . it would actually be cold out here otherwise . . .
Eventually, out of boredom, he decided to enchant the bow on his back.
He didn't stop walking. Instead, he let his mana flow into the wood of the bow as he navigated the undergrowth. He didn't use a core or runes... instead, he practised his intent.
He visualized the bow not as a piece of dead wood, but as a living spring. He saw the limbs becoming more flexible yet snapping back with extra force. He added a layer of magic for accuracy, imagining the bow 'wanting' to find its mark.
The wood shimmered briefly, a pale green light pulsing under his grip before sinking into the grain. The bow felt lighter, more balanced, and humming with a quiet, lethal readiness.
However, the focus required for the enchantment had a price. When Jacob finally looked up and checked his bearings, the sun had dipped dangerously low. The familiar landmarks of the Hemlock property were gone. Every snow-covered ridge and ancient oak looked identical in the fading light. He was lost.
Jacob stopped, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. The woods felt suddenly crowded, as if a dozen eyes were peering from the darkness. He turned slowly, searching for a predator.
"You're walking in circles, Farmer."
The voice was cool, level, and came from a branch ten feet above him. Jacob looked up.
An older girl sat perched among the pine needles, her mottled green and brown cloak making her nearly invisible against the bark. She carried a longbow that looked as much a part of her as her own limbs. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and held a "watched-it-all-before" weariness. He could see a hint of dark hair covered by the hood of her cloak.
She didn't wait for him to respond. She dropped from the branch with the grace of a falling leaf, landing silently in the slush. She didn't offer a hand or a name. She simply gestured toward a narrow, obscured deer path and started walking.
"Follow me, farm boy," she commanded.
Jacob followed the strange girl, who had to be thirteen years old at most. She moved through the thickets without snapping a single twig, her pace relentless and efficient. She didn't look back to see if he was keeping up, she seemed to know where he was by the sound of his boots.
In less than twenty minutes, the treeline broke, and the warm, golden glow of the Hemlock greenhouse appeared in the distance.
At the edge of the east field, she stopped. She looked at Jacob, then at the bow he still held in his hand.
"Why help me?" Jacob asked, adjusting his quiver. "You could have let me spend the night in the frost."
"I was watching you earlier," Mira said, her voice barely louder than the wind. "In the deep thicket. You were changing that bow while you walked. No runes or circles. Just . . . breathing into the wood."
She looked at her own boots, which were worn thin and soaked through with frozen mud. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing in the woods. I wanted to see if the boy who makes bows sing could also find his way home. You couldn't."
Jacob looked at her boots. He saw the fatigue in her posture, the kind of weariness that comes from never truly stopping. He reached out and placed his hand near her boots.
He visualized the leather becoming impervious to moisture. He added a layer of intent for 'lightness,' making the boots feel like they were carrying the wearer rather than weighing her down. He asked the magic to reduce the friction of the long walk.
A soft, amber glow enveloped her feet. She gasped, her stoic mask breaking for a fraction of a second as she felt the immediate relief. The bone-deep ache of miles of scouting vanished, replaced by a buoyant, effortless warmth.
"I'm Jacob. Who do I have to thank for my rescue?" Jacob asked.
She flexed her feet, her expression shifting from suspicion to a deep, calculating respect. "Mira . . .," she replied. She seemed a bit confused at his gesture of goodwill, but quickly adjusted her bearing.
Mira simply nodded once, pulled her hood up, and vanished back into the shadows of the woods as if she had never been there at all.
Jacob watched the spot where she disappeared. He had a feeling he wouldn't have to look for her... she would be watching.